


the way you move is like a full-on rainstorm (and i'm a house of cards)

by Lefauxlucifer



Series: always vibrant, with shining colors [2]
Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Internal Monologue, POV Second Person, absolutely shameless, and semi public naughty stuff, aya's the voice of reason, i hope ayahina can ruin your life as much as it has mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefauxlucifer/pseuds/Lefauxlucifer
Summary: Maruyama Aya is your typical undergrad, barely scraping by (despite always putting her best foot forward).On the flip side, Hikawa Hina is such a model student that she's attending classes she shouldn't even technically be a part of.That's what everyone thinks, but Aya knows better.For reasons best left unsaid.
Relationships: Hikawa Hina/Maruyama Aya
Series: always vibrant, with shining colors [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792045
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	the way you move is like a full-on rainstorm (and i'm a house of cards)

**Author's Note:**

> i swore i wouldn't but oh i think we both know how that worked out
> 
> (now revised so it's even worse!)

It's not until you're hunched over the island in your kitchen on a Monday morning that you realize you keep bringing a knife to a gunfight, that she can make you _melt_ with just a warm smile and a couple pretty words (but who can blame you? she’s an eleven on a scale of one to ten).

And with those eyes, with that voice, she’s made you do things you’re well aware wouldn’t fly in polite company.

But it’s to be expected. Hikawa Hina is a nightmare dressed like a daydream, and she could teach the devil himself a few things about temptation.

Because you hate it, how her name pops up in your head and the first thing you think of is _being forced_ up against a wall, her hands just barely on your waist, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But you’re calm. Your fingers drum mindlessly against granite while your forearms comfortably rest against the kitchen countertop, and you're taking deep, deep breaths until the excess energy dissipates. You’re only two days (and sixteen minutes, not that you’ve been counting) into this dry spell, and it’s honestly the _least_ of your worries.

With your eyelids growing heavier by the second, it feels like someone's out for blood, scheduling classes this early in the day. You take a long sip of coffee from your favorite mug, then set it down, and it gets the gears rolling, the kind of kickstart you need on an abysmal Monday morning.

And Hina takes your momentary lapse in focus as the perfect opportunity to jump you, and you've come to accept (and almost expect) this descent into madness after five months of putting up with her. The problem isn’t even that it’s a particularly unwelcome feeling (you wish).

It’s that it’s prohibitively difficult for you to keep your thoughts as clean as your apartment with her hands _ghosting_ over your ribs.

So you pull her off, and then the two of you exchange good mornings while she pours herself a glass of chocolate milk. And then you accidentally make eye contact with her and now you have to feign the bare minimum of self-control, because giving her any excess of attention when she's sizing you up like this is playing right into her hands.

Your only option is to do what anyone your age does when they have a spare moment: scroll idly through the notifications on your phone (and ignore the existence of the six videos you have saved of her, all of which you’ll note are completely safe for work…as long as you don’t open them).

With all three remaining flecks of your sanity in tow, you refrain from checking Instagram (confirming whether Hina’s posted another bedside selfie of you two has never done wonders for your mental health) and instead, you sift through your emails (the last time you missed an update, you were an hour late to rehearsal, and the lecture Chisato gave you haunts you to this day).

It's grueling and downright tedious, and though it feels like time stands still, the hands of the wall clock inch far enough forward that you can seamlessly escape the perils of Hina’s overactive imagination, on the grounds that you’ll be late for class if you drag your heels.

It’s a foolproof plan with _zero_ room for error.

You're halfway to the door when she stops you.

“Aw, but Aya-chan….staying home all day is gonna be so boring! There’s never anything fun to do! Hey, why don’t I come with you, Aya-chan! That way, we can be together all day, right?” Hina suggests, and something tells you there’s no getting out of this now (but at this point, you have plenty of experience speed-running the five stages of grief), so you might as well try your hand at damage control.

“You should...probably go change first,” you advise, hoping you don’t have to explain why she can't head out in nothing but a t-shirt and bunny slippers.

And in hindsight, that's a rookie mistake. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as she makes her way back to the bedroom and takes her top _en-route_ , and she does it so _casually_ that it makes you _look_.

And when she’s gone, you become acutely aware that you’ve unconsciously captured the scene in high-definition.

It plays on repeat until she gets back, and you think it’s highly likely you’ll forget your own name before you misremember the color of her underwear (thank _god_ she’s wearing any), and when she makes her grand reappearance, you swear the ripped jeans she has on now are the same ones she was wearing when the two of you...

No. You're _not_ letting Hina’s antics throw you off your game, and if she really thinks you're _that_ easy, then, well...

She's not wrong.

But you’re stronger than that and you aren't going to let a little thing like the sight of Hikawa Hina in _hand-picked lingerie_ embarrass you to death, not after all you’ve been through.

At least, that’s what you think… but maybe you think about it a little too much, because by the time you've pledged yourself to all that’s good and holy in this world, Hina is back, this time properly clothed, and she takes advantage of your confusion to take you by the hand and make a break for it.

The next thing you know, you’re in class, and what's worse is she’s right next to you, her fingertips tapping rhythmically on the hard wood of the lecture hall tables. There’s no cryptic meaning attached to that, right? You’re just (reasonably) paranoid because you’ve been outfoxed more times than you can comfortably count. That’s all it is.

You scribble down your signature on the sign-in sheet (the sole reason you showed up) and pass it to your left, glaring at your (unofficial) girlfriend, who, to her credit, pretends to let it consume her attention as her free hand slips quietly underneath the table, and before you can stop her, it’s skimming the hem of your skirt. Your eyes widen and the hair on your arm _bristles_.

"Hina-chan, we can't. At least not here," you insist, keeping your voice down and hoping to god she gets the hint.

"Eh? Why not, Aya-chan? Don't you want to?" her voice lilts, and you chide yourself for approaching it with even the barest minimum of _subtlety_. It’s clear the only thing Hina will understand is staunch refusal.

"That not important, Hina. There are too many people watching. We're bound to attract attention if we do it here. They'll think we're weird, or something....” you weakly counter, not liking how Hina has you at your wits’ end.

“But they already think I’m weird, Aya-chan? Hey, maybe we can be weird together!” she speculates, and you’re actually kind of in awe at how perfectly that backfired on you.

And how do you even respond to that? She picks up on your layered frustration and her fingertips veer onto your thigh. When you glare and all she does is giggle in response, it’s a gentle reminder that she never takes you seriously, which stings (just a little, again, not that anyone’s asking), but you don’t get to dwell on it, not with her this dangerously close. 

"Hina-chan…you know we can’t. It’s just way too risky, doing something like that here, and besides…I don’t even know if you’re allowed to be here. If you got in trouble because of me… "

"But Aya-chan... don't you want them to see just how zappin' you are?" she hums, and it's downright _dangerous_ , how _warm_ her breath is on your ear, how _close_ she is to whittling down your meager opposition.

You have half a mind to think she'd call it quits if you just up and left, but you've consciously ran through the pros and cons and the voice in your head is telling you Hina might be onto something here. Apparently, it’s done the math, and there's not a single reason (besides maintaining a healthy level of human decency) to say no to this.

So you whisper to get her to stop, your self-control dangling by a _thread_ (not that there was much of it to begin with). It’s not a question of if now, but of when, and it’s another nail in your coffin, because what you really want is to bare your soul to her and tell Hina how you really feel and hopefully she can understand that you want so, so much more out of this than just the sex, but you also kind of wouldn’t mind if she moved her hand just a little higher (just a little) and let her fingers run wild (just like that) and even that part of you agrees that you’re breaking every rule in the book, but do you want her to stop?

A soft whimper escapes your lips (on accident, you swear), and the angelic eyes Hina’s making at you sharply contrast with her devilish grin. You catch the person on your left scowl at the two of you and mutter something uncouth before their focus drifts back to the lecture.

Right. The lecture. European History. You’re supposed to be feigning interest.

And of course that’s the exact moment the professor locks eyes with you, and if five seconds ago, you thought you could die happy, then present you kind of actually wants to die, and Hina wearing your stark embarrassment as a badge of honor… isn’t helping.

“Miss…Maruyama, was it?” she hesitates, referencing a chart to match face to name, because when has anyone ever not gone the extra mile to humiliate you in public? “Is something wrong? ” and the way she asks makes it sound like she _knows_.

“Just…feeling a little…under the weather, is all, ” you offer an unconvincing smile, suddenly cognizant of how uncomfortable it is to have all eyes on you when it’s not in the context of a live show (though let’s be honest: you’re not much better with those).

“Then I’m sure your…friend won’t mind escorting you to the doctor’s office. We wouldn’t want you to learn at anything but your very best, would we?” she posits, and oh, she _knows._ If you weren’t mortified beyond recognition before, you certainly are now.

And Hina? Hina isn’t fazed in the slightest as she leads you out. What’s a walk of shame to you is to her a victory lap, and your heart skips a beat when she squeezes your hand like there’s somehow more to this friends-with-benefits thing than she’s letting on.

But if anything can strip you of your reluctance, it’s the gleam in those wicked emerald eyes, and maybe it’s because you’ve thrown yourself into subduing those _intrusive_ thoughts of yours that you can’t help but want this, want _her_.

And to hell with it. You’ve already survived total public humiliation (though it put you within an inch of your life and probably set you up for one heck of a rough semester while you were at it). What’s the worst that could happen?

*****

Famous last words, you know, and it’s almost like she wants to keep you in suspense, with how she doesn’t lay a finger on you until you’re within the confines of your home.

And the second the door _clicks_ shut, you find yourself exactly where you’d hoped, pinned up against the wall, her lips like fire in a heated exchange with your own.

You don’t know how you let her talk you into this, no, but nor are you regretting it. Hina’s surprisingly focused, hands _fiddling_ with the buttons of your shirt, and maybe, maybe you’ve forgotten just how good it feels when her lips meet your jawline, lax and light as a feather, but the _sharp_ , sordid thrill running through your spine reminds you.

When she lets go, your eyes meet hers, and the latent hunger in her gaze is nothing short of predatory.

You’re well aware that anything you say or do now will only delay the inevitable, but you’ve begrudgingly come to terms with just how hot under the collar you are for her, and with how she looks at you when you instinctively bite your lower lip, heck, you wouldn’t mind if she devours you whole.

Hina pulls you in by the waist and goes for your neck with _reckless abandon_ , her teeth _scraping_ defiantly against bare skin. It’s only when you reflexively stifle your moans that she draws back, and the way she stares at you makes it seem like _you’re_ the weird one.

“ I don’t get it, Aya-chan…you’re usually so _loud_ , and you make all these _boppin’_ sounds, but you’ve been way too quiet all day! Is something wrong? ” she asks out of genuine concern.

“It’s…nothing like that, Hina-chan. It’s just…embarrassing, ” you vacillate, conscious of how Hina loves taking things out of context.

Because to her, that’s a challenge, your sweet words of encouragement, and she’s never looked more eager to make you yield to her every whim.

*****

You manage to make it to the bed before she rips your shirt clean off, _sinks_ her teeth back into your neck, and now it hurts, god, it _hurts_ , and when you _gasp_ , Hina takes that as the highest form of praise.

So she keeps going, finds your pulse point and _flicks_ her tongue against it, _sucks_ on the tender flesh in a dissident rhythm that’s reminiscent of your heartbeat, rushed and precipitous. The noise that leaves your mouth is nothing short of _pathetic_ , a concession that in this world may as well mean absolute defeat.

But it’s never enough.

She makes her move, her hands traipsing past your bare chest, lower, lower still, until they’re even with the elastic of your underwear. And against your better judgement, you think she’s going to pick back up where she left off in the classroom. For some god-forsaken reason, you think Hikawa Hina is nice, so you angle yourself, not because Hina needs the help, but you wouldn’t mind if she touched you, touched you _here_ and _there_ _and_ _everywhere_.

But Hikawa Hina is calm and calculating, and all she does in exchange for your compliance is graze your entrance and wait for your heart to well with anticipation.

And it works.

“Hina-chan, Hina-chan, please… ” you _implore_ , on the verge of tears, “ if you make me wait much longer, I might… ” and it’s as close as you’ve ever come to outright _begging_ her for it.

You think you might spontaneously combust, but it works, and Hina’s eyes are glittering emeralds, dappled with a serpentine glow.

“Woah, Aya-chan…that was way boppin’ on so many levels! ” Hina gushes as her grin _twists_ into something you can only classify as categorically inhuman, “ Though you’re always so boppin’. ”

She pauses, mischief _flickering_ _wildly_ in her eyes.

“ I can’t help but want more of you. ”

Your breath gets _caught_ in your throat as she _drives_ two fingers into you with a sense of urgency. It’s fast and rough, just how you need her, and you’re shameless, so you grind your hips into her hand for good measure. Not a second after, her lips are flush with your own, hot and feverish, like she wants to make you forget how to think. Though it kills you that she’s _still_ treating this like a game, you’re more than happy to play along if this is where it gets you.

When she breaks the kiss, she licks her lips and you realize just how long you’ve been holding your breath, how content you are with just this alone. You’re too distracted with that to notice how quickly her fingers go back to their wicked ways, thrusting as deep as they can go inside of you and it’s impressive, how sharply you break the silence, how often she can make you curse in a span of mere seconds.

But Hina’s far from done with you. Her nails _rake_ up your thigh and then her fingers _curl_ and her thumb is tracing _harsh_ , stupid circles _there,_ right _there_ , and it makes your legs start to _shake_ and your eyes _fog_ with lust and her name is just about the only thing on your mind as it goes _blank_.

Everything from that point on is honestly a blur, and you’re not sure when exactly you come to, but you feel so _good_ that you don’t exactly care. Hina is curled up next to you, fast asleep, her head buried in the crook of your neck, and it’s such a soothing feeling that you’re inclined to join her.

So you do. Six hours later, you’ll realize that Chisato is going to verbally skin you alive, and only after that will you confront how you’re not a damn step closer to telling Hina that you _like_ her, that you want to be so much more than whatever this is.

But right now, you’re too busy savoring this silver of happiness to care.

**Author's Note:**

> the cost of using the word boppin': my dignity  
> the look on aya's face: priceless


End file.
